


five times Daisy and Coulson shared food (and one time they didn't)

by Skyepilot



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Awkward Flirting, F/M, First Kiss, Flirting, Food, Humor, Second Chances, Simmons misses Will, Teasing, eye rolling, get a room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2015-11-10
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:48:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5184317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/pseuds/Skyepilot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by tumblr convos and Skoulson.  Sappy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	five times Daisy and Coulson shared food (and one time they didn't)

1.

The first time she notices is when he hands over a Twizzler in the jump jet.

She's not sure where they're headed exactly, but she could use a little comfort food right now.

Wherever they’re going, she knows it’s because she’s different now, and she can’t distract the team.

Or him.

This is for her to get a handle on whatever this is inside of her, and that’s what she wants more than anything right now.

So she can get back in the field.

She doesn’t want him to have to do this alone. Or to be a burden when she _should_ be helping.

And anyway, she knows he wouldn’t do this without a good reason.

She trusts him.

The alternative is just too frightening to think about.

Talking to Andrew got her thinking about the past.

What she ran away from, and chased so hard after.

When she turns to ask where they’re going, he's chewing on a piece of the candy too, staring back at her, like he has something to tell her.

Wait.

Is this to make _her_ feel better, or him?

 

2.

The next time feels like months have passed (they have), and she just _has_ to have one of those ice cream bars she saw stashed in the back of the freezer.

It’s been on her mind, all day.

She'll pay them back, okay?

Waiting until the kitchen seems quiet, she pads in wearing socks for extra stealth.

This doesn’t require SHIELD levels of stealth, only St. Agnes levels.

Opening the door she feels the chill from inside and smiles in victory as she reaches past the frozen dinners to-

“I see we had the same idea,” he says, flipping the lights on.

She turns around with the box in one hand. Busted.

“Help yourself,” he continues, walking towards her.

She opens the top of the box and hands him a wrapped ice cream amicably, putting the rest back then closing the door.

First, she unwraps his (with his hand still in the sling that would’ve been challenging), then hers, as he waits patiently.

Maybe he was hoping she’d be here?

Then they take a first bite. Together.

Chocolate and caramel and vanilla, _yes_ , she thinks closing her eyes.

When she opens them, he's eating the ice cream in a very intentional way.

Like he's in a relationship with it, or something.

“How long have the two of you been dating?” she jokes.

Sort of.

And he pauses.

He doesn't answer her, just smirks, and goes back to eating the ice cream slowly, looking over it thoughtfully as it leaves a swipe of chocolate on his lower lip as he draws it away.

He licks at it with his tongue and looks up at her.

So, _that's_ how it's gonna be, she thinks.

 

3.

She's frustrated, and it breaks protocol, but she wants them.

She reminds Mack of her metabolism and mutters something about needing her strength to 'face the music'.

He pulls up to the convenience store with a sigh, and sets the van in park, then runs in because he's not the one wearing a field suit.

“Yes!” she exclaims triumphantly as he reappears, and she plucks the powdered donut pack out of his hand as he closes the driver’s side door after him.

He rolls his eyes and turns the van's engine over.

As they pull up to the plane, she hops out and heads up the ramp.

Coulson is waiting there, looking a little out of sorts, and she can guess why.

“How did it go? Your coms went dead,” he says, with a little tremor in his voice.

“Someone is getting to them before us,” she answers, trying to temper her anger. “Interfering. Pretty sure they jammed our signal.”

“I tried to get an image,” she adds, taking the pad from him to pull up the display.

“What's that?” he asks, tilting his head, then narrowing his eyes.

“What-what?” she replies, hesitating.

“That noise.”

“Huh?” she listens and turns, then hears the crinkling noise. “Oh!”

She pulls out the pack of nearly-eaten donuts from her pocket.

He raises his eyebrows, knowing what it means.

“Want one?” she asks, with a guilty smile.

“Hmph,” he says and reaches in with his right hand.

“What about me?” she asks, opening her mouth, just as he raises the donut to his lips.

He puts it in her mouth instead, waits for her to bite down, taking another out as she drops the empty pack onto the station.

She flops in the chair in front of the display and begins tapping on the pad with her fingers.

The chair bumps a little as he rests his prosthetic hand on the back and leans over as she manages to catch the donut with her free hand before it falls out of her mouth.

“Mack,” Coulson says, mid-chew, as the other man approaches them.

Mack just stops to look at them both, then shakes his head and continues on.

“Did something else happen?” Coulson presses, looking down at her.

She looks up at him, and sees powdered sugar dusted over his lips.

“I think you took his donut, _Phil_ ,” she smiles.

“ _You_ took his donut, Sk-” he shoots back, stopping himself just in time, then wiping at his mouth with the back of his fingers.

She does the same and her fingers come away with traces of white dust.

“Don't get that on my plane,” he teases, sort of, as she gets back to work.

“Yes, sir.”

 

4.

“How does she know those are your favorite burgers?”

“If I knew that, I would know.”

“Everything, or just the creepy stuff?”

He slowly blinks and hold her gaze.

“Sorry. You're the one who said she had an 'Evil Lola'."

“That's not what I said,” he starts in. “What I said was-“

“Welcome to DJ's can I take your order?”

 _Saved by the burger_ , she thinks, watching him place his order as she looks over the menu board.

“What do you want?” he asks, turning back to her.

“I'll have what you're having. Get some valuable intel, perhaps?”

He sighs deeply and turns back.

“Make that two.”

Then he rolls Lola forward and hands over the cash as the guy at the window stares at his prosthetic when he hands the food across to them.

She thinks about that.

They pull Lola around to a park nearby and sit out on the benches, watching people with their families and joggers. Happy couples. People with normal lives.

“I know this isn't easy for you,” he says, getting his hand around the burger.

 _Me?_ She wonders. _What about you?_

She just has this bad feeling about Price, and she’s watched him struggle since he lost his hand.

That’s not something he can hide, is it?

He told her he’s been doing this for a long time, but has he had to do this?

Play someone so up-close-and personal?

That’s different. That’s pretending you’re someone else.

“Thanks,” she answers quietly, looking at him and noticing how exhausted he seems.

Was he ever that kind of guy? She doesn’t remember him like that. Not even from the very beginning.

They both dig into their burgers, and eat in silence.

 

5.

"What's so funny?"

Coulson walks into the lounge and she knows how this looks.

Her and Simmons, hunkered down over a laptop, with several empty beer bottles between them.

"Just filling out a field report, sir," Simmons answers brightly, meeting her eyes for a moment, as she sits up straight.

She barely gets the words out before she bursts into laughter.

Coulson pushes past them to see a video display of Ward, face down on a table in the Honeycomb room.

"This is...," he begins, then his eyes go wide. "What exactly did you do with this?"

"I broadcast it on the HYDRA frequency we got from Von Strucker, Jr. _Sir_ ," Daisy answers, holding in a laugh.

“Professional," he says, with a disapproving snort.

Then he starts to chuckle.

"Did he see it?" he asks, pulling out a chair next to them. 

It takes her a bit off guard, considering his distance lately.

“I'm not sure,” she answers, typing over the keyboard.

“God, I haaaate Waaaard,” Simmons says, wearily, slumping back in her chair.

Dumping old SHIELD footage of Ward passed out in the Bus just came to her. Like, _wham_.

And she's pretty drunk, she has to admit.

“I’m restarting HYDRA, like a ‘real man’ would,” Simmons says, putting her hands on her hips for the full effect.

She sort of snorts and Coulson gives her a wary look before putting his hand down on the table.

There's a chocolate bar in it, and he starts to unwrap it.

“No one’s taken the bait so far,” Daisy says, sadly reporting her results.

“I can’t believe you’d do this without sharing it with the team,” he says, taking a piece of chocolate, and handing it across the table to her.

She breaks off a square, and stares back at him as they both go to put the chocolate in their mouths.

“You’re not going to _share_ that?” Simmons demands, staring over at Coulson.

The both freeze and look at her, then each other.

“Yes?” Coulson says, shrugging.

“Of course he’s going to share,” Daisy shrugs, handing the chocolate over to her.

“Oh, get a room,” Simmons says, swiping a hand at them, as she grabs the chocolate and pushes out her chair.

“What’s _that_ about?” Coulson asks, following Simmons with his eyes as she leaves the room.

“Don’t worry. It’s not about you.”

 

6.

“It’s mine,” he says, taking a bite out of the cupcake.

“All. Mine.”

The last of the office holiday party cupcakes.

Really, he's entitled to it.  Since he made them.

Only that, she's ready to move forward now.

He lets her go for his hand, then pulls it a little out of her reach.

Finally catching him she pins his hand, laughing and ends up smushing the cupcake between their fingers, as bits crumble to the floor.

He looks a little annoyed.

"Still want that cupcake?" he asks, with a raise of his eyebrows, then he drops the threat and shakes the remains into the trash bin.

_Oh, Phil._

"Yes, I do," she replies, and tugs him towards her by the front of his shirt.

He hitches his breath, and his eyes go wide with realization.

His mouth tastes like buttercream frosting.

(That was the part she wanted, anyway.)

Forgetting himself, or remembering, whatever, he wraps his messy hand around her back and pulls her closer to him, until they've stumbled up against the kitchen counter.

The side of his face has frosting on it now where her fingers have traced over it, and she swipes her tongue across his chin as he angles his head so that she can kiss her way up his neck.

She can feel his pulse underneath her mouth, and he turns on her, lifting her up in a rush onto the counter, then pushing her knees apart as he settles between her legs.

Now he's got the advantage, and his hands circle her hips, drawing her against his obvious arousal, as he kisses her hard and deep, then pulls back.

He runs a thumb across her mouth.

"I thought-"

"C'mon, Phil," she urges, pulling on the front of his shirt.

"After everything. That I'd screwed it up.  For good," he goes on, searching her eyes.

"I think we could both use a second chance here," she says, her hand brushing over his fingers caressing her face.

He looks at her like he knows he's being foolish, but he needed to hear it.

Then she leans in and kisses him. Softly.

"I would've shared the cupcake with you," he points out, pressing his mouth against the corner of hers.

She closes her eyes as he kisses her cheek, the spot above her eyebrow, opening her eyes to him looking at her.

He isn't hiding anything.

" _I know_."


End file.
